


The Story of Carl

by molybdenum (gamma_radio)



Category: Terminator (Movies), Terminator: Dark Fate
Genre: Character Study, Homelessness, I’ll update tags and warnings as it develops, Learning to be Human, Mild Dark Fate spoilers, Origin Story, Slow Burn, Terminator: Dark Fate - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:41:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21813841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gamma_radio/pseuds/molybdenum
Summary: The T-800 has completed its mission for a SkyNet that won't ever exist. A sleeper agent for an unmade master. Free.20 years later, Carl helps save a young girl’s life. There’s a lot to learn between then.It is a learning computer. It was designed for this. It will be fine.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 26





	1. Prologue


      **PRIMARY OBJECTIVE COMPLETE**
    

The red text fills its field of vision for a moment before flickering out. It’s quickly replaced with a cascade of new messages:
    
    
      **SLEEPER MODE ENGAGED**  
    
    
    
    
      **SECONDARY OBJECTIVE RE-PRIORITIZED TO PRIMARY OBJECTIVE:**
    **MAINTAIN COVERT STATUS**  
    
    
    
    
      **NEW SECONDARY OBJECTIVE:**
    **MAINTAIN PRIME FUNCTIONALITY**
    

This will be its mission until a new primary objective is received. Purpose completed, it is still a highly capable asset, and its position in the field could prove strategic in the future. It’s guise as a human is still perfectly intact and it is in prime condition. That aside, self-termination is not allowed, even in the form of neglect, so the secondary objective is now nearly as important as the primary.

The T-800’s files prior to deployment were a black-and-white silent film compared to the vibrancy of the past-earth it now finds itself in. Those files were studied and digested as quickly as the data had registered on its processor. Before traveling to the past, that had been all there was at its disposal. Now, entrenched in its subject of study, there is a raging flood of inputs to analyze and interpret. 

It is a learning computer. It was designed for this. It will be fine.


	2. Lívingston

It has no destination, but it cannot refine its assimilation techniques without further study, so it must go somewhere. This is an anomaly among humans, because it has observed that when they do not have a destination, they do not adjust their macro location. They do, however, constantly adjust their position on a micro level. This behavior has already been noted and filed, although more observation on these movements will be necessary in order to properly imitate them.

To maintain appearances, it accesses the present-day Global Positioning System and cross-references road maps with population density as reported by the portable personal computers that all humans appear to carry in this time. It identifies coordinates that fall within acceptable parameters, and sets them as its destination. The location is 37.14 kilometers away, so it finds the nearest road and starts walking.

* * *

Lívingston, Guatemala is in the middle of nowhere, as the humans say. The town is relatively small, roads paved in pebbled concrete, weathered mismatched fences and railings, and corrugated metal roofs — some rusted in streaks and others painted the bright colors of the building façades. A high volume of humans in waterproof jackets and cropped leg-wear are present on the streets, despite the 98% humidity and high temperature, which files indicate is uncomfortable weather for humans to bear. 

The 4-door vehicle to motorbike ratio is approximately 29.81:53.74, judging by observation since arrival. This is suitable to this unit, which has a preference for 2-wheeled vehicles for ease of maneuverability and increased visual field compared to enclosed transport units. It is aware that motorbikes have a higher reported rate of casualties for humans, but those in this small town rarely exceed a speed of 50 kilometers per hour, so their popularity is understandable.

Now that this unit is engaged in Sleeper Mode, discretion is prioritized over haste, so it refrains from extralegally acquiring a vehicle.

* * *

Lívingston, Guatemala is in the middle of nowhere, as the humans say. The possible routes to the nearest locations suiting the chosen parameters are all lightly traveled backroads. (Sea routes are also available for faster travel, but this unit refrains from extended water transit due to its inability to swim.)

The only alternate path out of town is to cross the Rio Dulce to the south east of Lívingston and pass through the tiny town of Buena Vista. From there, it will travel along a narrow road with very little recorded information available on the present-day internet.

It has no currency for a ferry across the river, so it waits until nightfall (to avoid undue attention) and wades across the Rio Dulce. The river becomes wide and shallow as it empties into Caribbean Sea, but is still far deeper than this unit is tall. It leaves its stolen clothes on the shore to prevent the current from dragging at them, and steps a bare foot into the cool water. 

The riverbed near the shore is a mix of small stones and dirt. As it wades up to its knees, it feels low river weeds brushing against its legs. When the water reaches its chest, the riverbed’s constitution changes to looser silt and its feet sink several centimeters with every step. The volume of water pushing against its body is enough, now, to slow it considerably. It lets the water push and doesn’t increase its horsepower.

The water is up to its chin and at every step it pulls its feet free with a sucking sensation. Silt swirls up around its body and taller river weeds touch its finger-tips. The water crests the top of its head and it activates its night vision, which is not designed for underwater usage, but is still effective. Humans sleep but the fish are awake. The tiny ones are murmurating in twisting, flowing schools and larger fish with trailing whiskers and long fins swim alone. They avoid this unit, likely able to sense the subacoustic humming of its machinery.

The surface of the river is 1.62 meters above its head and it can hear, carried by the dense water, strange chirping and humming sounds originating approximately 28 meters ahead and 1 meter above it. It is another 3 minutes before this unit is close enough to make out the shapes of two large oblong creatures, one smaller than the other, swimming abreast under the rippling glow of the waxing gibbous moon. They swim towards the unit and the smaller one dives to its level, circles behind, and follows at its side for a moment. The larger one hums low and pining and the smaller one swims back up to it. Together they continue toward the mouth of the Rio Dulce, towards the ocean. 

32 minutes minutes later, this unit’s head breaches the river’s surface. 8 minutes after that, dripping water and river weed, it lifts one silt-covered foot onto the opposite shore.


	3. Chapter 3

4:07 am local time, and heat signatures suggest that nearly the entire town is still, horizontal, therefore asleep. The Terminator — although perhaps now that it is effectively in hiding, it should no longer think of itself as such — is stark naked. Its footsteps are nearly silent as it hauls its dripping frame up the river bank and pads barefoot behind the small patchwork homes, down the dirt road between the houses. There is clearly no wealth in this tiny backwater town, but that doesn’t stop this unit from taking its pick from the clotheslines. 

Most people had taken in their laundry before the sun went down, lest it re-dampen with dew, but there are a few homes who’ve left clothes out. The people of this country are extremely small in stature, but it manages to find a short sleeve shirt large enough to fit its chest tightly, and shorts that make it past its considerable thighs. Shoes are a lost cause.

It finds a towel before dressing and gives itself a cursory rubdown, leaning against the peeling curealian paint of a shed. It dresses efficiently and leaves the towel — now splotchy brown rather than bright yellow - hanging on a stray nail sticking from the side of the building. 

The unit turns to go in the faint blue of pre-dawn, and finds a four-legged figure standing in the road ahead of it. The unit can clearly see the dog’s eyes trained on it, tapetum lucidum a shifting glare of bright green in the dim half-light. The dog’s shoulders are squared, feet planted in aggression, and a nearly-inaudible growl rises behind bared teeth. 

This unit couldn’t reasonably feel threatened by an animal, so it walks forward unmindful of anything besides its route. 

The dog’s ears flatten and it crouches as if preparing to spring, but instead backs away towards the side of the road. The unit can smell the fear hormones radiating off the animal. As it walks by, the dog unexpectedly springs despite any sensible reasoning. It lunges at the unit’s ankle from behind, teeth falling centimeters short in an intentional feint. 

The unit turns towards it, knowing a little of dogs and their linguistic capabilities, and delivers a firm, deep, “No.”

* * *

Present-day GPS data does not cover roads in this seemingly insignificant town, so the unit downloads satellite imagery of the region and uses its image processing to find its own route through Buena Vista to the only road out of town.

It walks twice as fast down the dirt roads as it did through the deepest section of the river, and then 1.7 times as fast once it reaches the short stretch of paved road through the center of town — so as not to cause undue wear to its bare feet. The light, without warning or fanfare, has changed from dim blue-grey to golden-green. The dog follows this unit from a steady distance of 13.4 meters behind.

* * *

The road quickly becomes dirt again as it exits town towards the southeast. It is the rainy season, and the greenery is lush. For the first 290 meters, open fields line the road to the east and west, with corn stalks rising high and uncultivated foliage threatening to overtake the sides of the road; plants with thin, tall leaves branching from stalks in alternate arrangement, wild ropy bushes contradictory with thorns and swollen purple berries, small lace-like weeds with tiny flowering finials rising in whorled arrangement from thin stalks.

The unit observes these with casual intensity, as it observes everything, and takes note. In this hostile past earth, it is impossible to anticipate what small piece of information may prove vital.

The road turns eastward and the canopy overtakes the green-blue sky. Crooked-branched trees interlock above the unit’s head and the growing light filters through to dapple the dampened dust beneath its feet, which are filthy by now. Thick greyish moss hangs from the branches in impressive drapes reaching between 3 decimeters and 1.5 meters in length, its growth likely encouraged by the perpetually humid air.

As the trees obscure the sky the dog lags further behind, eventually stops, and turns back towards town.

* * *

By mid-morning the temperature has risen to 27.8° Celsius. The unit sees a cluster of buildings up ahead and hears a vehicle approaching from behind. The unit readies itself for forceful confrontation. The vehicle drives past.

The Jeep rolls to a stop several meters ahead and the human female in the driver’s seat turns to gawk unabashedly. She hooks one muscled brown arm around the back of her headrest and raises her sunglasses to slowly survey the unit, from bare feet to bare head. In a thick Guatemalan accent, she calls out in english, “Oy gringo, the hell are you doing?” 

The unit decides that honesty has the highest percentage chance of success. In perfect Spanish (which files indicate is the most widely-spoken language of this country) it replies, “Walking.”

The woman lets out a sudden burst of laughter, a sign of happiness, and the unit takes this as a symbol of a successful interaction. It continues to walk.

The woman eases onto her gas pedal and keeps pace with the unit as it passes the Jeep. Eyes trained on it and one arm on the steering wheel, she says in spanish this time, “Okay, where you walking to?”

Honesty should be successful again, “The corner of Ruta a Santo Tomás and 4a Calle.”

She stares at it and it considers that this may have been the incorrect thing to say. It is still learning, after all.

“You’re not talking about Puerto Barrios, are you? On foot?”

“I am not in a hurry,” it answers.

She mutters under her breath, “Jesús Christo, gringos siempre son mas stupido.” She stops the Jeep. “Get in. You have no shoes, no food, and no water. I’m not going to let you die out here, no matter how stupid you are.”

The unit considers its options. Judging by her reaction, it acknowledges that it appears unequipped for the journey by human standards, which is contrary to its primary objective of blending in. It could deny her and attempt to remedy this appearance malfunction on its own. It could also accept her offered help, which will be a more efficient solution. While it may draw more attention to its inadequacies, it will offer an opportunity to begin studying human behavior and body language in earnest.

“Okay.” It walks around to the other side of the Jeep, and climbs in. She steps on the gas.

“Anita.” She glances the unit as she accelerates and the speedometer reads a breakneck 32 km/hr. It stares at her and says nothing, not yet understanding but hopefully giving her adequate attention. She glances at it again and then looks squarely at it with an inscrutable expression. “That’s my name.”

An answer appears to be required. “It is nice to meet you.”

She sighs and rolls her eyes. “Here’s where you tell me who you are.”

The unit records the discovered social norm as a rule in its files.
    
    
    **RULE:**
    **GIVEN THIS UNIT IS SPEAKING TO A HUMAN**
    **WHEN THE HUMAN STATES ITS NAME**
    **THEN THIS UNIT SHOULD STATE A NAME IN RETURN**
    

This unit does not have a name, but it requires one to fulfill this social requirement. It downloads a copy of the most common male Guatemalan names and chooses one at random from names ranked between #15 to #45. “My name is Carlos.”

Anita glances at it again and murmurs, “Huh. Maybe not such a gringo after all.”

* * *

Up the road is a small cluster of buildings, and Anita jumps down from the Jeep, signaling the unit to stay put. She walks into the nearest house, hardly more than a shed, and it can easily hear her speaking to a man inside in swift Spanish, full of quirks of the local dialect.

“—found this gringo walking up the road, says he’s going to Puerto Barrios on foot.”

“Eh, I’ve found weirder.”

“Sure sure, but he’s got no  _ shoes _ , no  _ food,  _ and no  _ water _ .”

Sounding nonplussed, the man replies, “Okay, so he’s either stupid or crazy.”

“I’m betting on stupid. Anyway, I can’t drive him all the way there, but I’m not gonna let him die.” She emerges from the building with a white plastic bag in one hand, speaking over her shoulder, “This’ll have to be enough. I’m heading into the preserve now, I’ll see you later, Guillermo.”

She climbs back into the Jeep and hands the unit the plastic bag. The side of the bag says “Gracías” on it in red lettering, so it turns to her and says “Gracías.”

She starts the ignition and wrestles the gearshift into drive. “Sure, least I can do. I’m going a little farther this way, so I can give you a lift until we get to the road to the preserve.”

The unit has no further need for her assistance, so it declines. “It is not necessary, You have given me what I need,” for surely she had given it whatever she thought it needed. The unit exits the Jeep and lands heavily on the unpaved road. It looks back at her and waves, as files indicate is human custom for greetings and goodbyes. She stares at the unit again with the same inscrutable expression as before, and it turns and walks away.

* * *

Inside the bag are two 16 ounce plastic bottles labeled “Pura Vida”, two rectangular bars wrapped in colorful foil, and a fist-sized fruit colored bright orange-yellow with mottled brown spots across its skin. An excellent set of props to increase conviction in its disguise as a human.

As it walks, it considers the conversation between Anita and Guillermo. The first notable factor is that she did not use its proclaimed name in the discussion. It does not yet understand why it was necessary for her to have a name for it when she did not use it. That question will require further data.

The second notable factor is that she referred to the unit as “he” as if it were a human male. This is a good indicator that despite its current lack of experience and data, it still has managed to be convincing in its façade of humanity.

It concludes that it should adjust its self-image to consider itself as a human male might, and refer to itself as “he” as well.

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO thank you for visiting, this is my first fic (that i think people might actually read) so I’m very excited!! Hopefully I’ll be posting a new chapter every week, so subscriiibbbe and let me know what you think so far <3


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